Dreams Are Funny

Time to take a shower. I opened the microwave door so I could climb in.

What? I couldn’t get in.

Head first. Nope. Feet first. I couldn’t fit.

What’s going on? This is how I always take a shower. I always fit comfortably inside the microwave with the door closed.

Frustrated, I gave up and went to the bathroom. Inside the tub; close the curtain. This was so uncomfortable for me.

I needed to find all my stuff and keep it organized. Shampoo. Razor. Where was my body wash? Other unhelpful bottles kept falling off the shelves around the tub.

I could never get the water pressure right. Why wouldn’t the stream point the direction I wanted?

Family members kept coming into the bathroom—hurrying me up; saying I better leave their bath supplies alone. Can’t I have a little peace and privacy?

Worst of all? I finally got to washing myself, and I’d find a piece of clothing I’d forgotten to take off. Pull it off. Throw it over the shower curtain. Wash off . . . There’s another garment I have to remove.

No wonder I wake up so many mornings feeling like I’ve got no rest.